


One Morty - two Morty

by BlueKryptonite



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alien Technology, Clone Sex, Clones, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Incest, M/M, Science, Science Fiction, Short Chapters, Stalking, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 19,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKryptonite/pseuds/BlueKryptonite
Summary: “Lis-listen Morty…” He whimpers uncomfortably, and I loosen my grip on him. “...I… I built Corty- yes also for selfish reasons- but mostly because I can't be your only friend. You… yo-you need company of your own age. Someone who doesn't judge you, yet already knows what parts not to poke. I’m not that person.”





	1. Chapter 1

“That little fucker,”mutters the old man and takes a swig from his (now banged the hell up) flask. He's standing at a dingy alien garage. The parking space is empty. Rick is starting at it with not so mild interest. “Yeah Morty Grandpa will remove the tracking chip from you so you don't feel like a dog. Yeah suuuure. No it's ok if you leave your phone home to avoid telling your mom why you didn't answer when she inevitably calls you about the unfinished laundry. Oh, okay Morty! I’ll trust you for five minutes with my space ship. What the fuck could happen in five minutes? … Well apparently FUCKING THIS!!” He shouts at the emptyness like it's the inside of Mortys skull, cause apparently they have the same density. As if as punctuation a piece of space debris floats across the space like a tumbleweed.  
He puts down the duffel bag of cargo, and sighs. The air smells like shit tho, so decision immediately regretted. He takes out his phone, dials, and lifts it to his ear. A long while the scientists is left to just look at the darkness of space through a hole in the concrete and listen to no answers. A patrol car whizzes by. He shoots a murderous glance at it once it's almost out of sight again. The phone is finally answered:” Heeeyyyy buddy, need to ask you a favour.”

 

The room is dark, and smells like thousand year old mold. Like there's mold growing on mold growing on mold. “Aww jeezh..”Morty whispers scared, and tries to see some indicators for his location. “Well at least I’m not tied up,” he desperately wants to see the bright side, as not to freak the fuck out. A little snot drips down his nose. It’s freezing. He hugs his body, while trying to make minimal contact with the cold and disgustingly hostile ground. It’s crawling with… something. He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to know.  
Mortys stomach cramps, end he tries not to vomit as he hears heavy footsteps. They halt at the door to his cell and he hears someone fumbling with the doorknob. A thin column of green light is cast on the floor. Bile in his throat, Mortys eyes water as the beam just barely reaches his face, but still manage to burn his retinas. A slow drip of water is all he can focus on for a moment as he's unable to see his stalker. The beam of light grow thicker momentarily as the shadow enters. Then it's dark again. Morty doesn't breathe. The figure is looming far above him, much larger that the biggest of men. “P-pl-please just rape, and let me-let me go home,” he whispers, more hoping than asking. The stranger answers in a language of shrieks and gurgling. “Oh jeezh, do-don-don’t kill me, please!”

Rick hears Mortys pathetic voice at the end of the hallway. He wipes purple alien blood from his brow, and heads stealthily to the now non-stop wailing Morty-beacons direction. “Damn spaceship scavenging pirates, you can steal my heap of lovely shit, but you don't steal the breathing heap of lovely shit. He’s mine,” Rick murmurs, making his 'friend’ listening in on his mic laugh like he lost his head. Rick mutes his ear piece for a few seconds to spare him from the ugly-ass noise. Finally after a long wait behind the door just listening to his grandkids cries for help, the earpiece gives him the all clear signal, and he kicks in the door.  
Mindlessly he shoots the assailant in the head-like area. It spews more purple shit everywhere from the bullets entry point. It partially covers Mortys torso. The young boy doesn't look at his grandfather, just stares with eyes wide as saucepans at the now deflated corpse. “Yeah I’d love to discover the deeper meaning of life too dip shit, but we gotta run before more of his buddys find us,” Rick states and pulls the boy up by his elbow as he doesn't respond. Three tentacles slip out of the boys pant sleeves as they make their way out of the room. Rick sees it, and chooses strongly not to ever comment on it. Just like Jellybean. Pretend it didn't happen. Hope he forgets. Just move on.

They make it to the space ship without incident. It hasn't yet been torn apart and sold, which honestly even for these shits would’ve been fast work. Morty climbs aboard, and away they go. “There's a help signal activator in the glove box. That small white button. If you see some creep nicking my shit, next time just press it. Took me two days to locate this baby under their signal interference.”  
Morty doesn't answer, just looks out at space. “Are- are you even listening to me?” Morty doesn't answer, so Rick just huffs, and looks on. He tries not to care. He tries not feeling guilty. The assailant is dead, so what the fuck can he do? Beth would cry and make him uncomfortable, Jerry would kill Rick and Summer would walk away. Yeah, not happening.


	2. Giving life to the inanimate

I’m drunk. Why am I this drunk?.. wait did I drink whiskey or that fucking bomb Andromeda stuff Squanchy got me last Christmas… Oh shit. I was supposed to talk to Morty tonight. Ah, fuck it, that kid better just learn to see me drunk. Gotta rip off the bandaid now, before the glue gets all moist and gross and everywhere. Yeah.. don’t want... any of those arround... Damn.  
I have no idea what to say to that kid. “Hey, wanna fuck arround with the very idea of self, and make you a twin? Cha-chaa~ *flashes and firecrackers*.” Oh hell naw dog! Fuck that shit. I’ve got to be real with this kid. He needs help, and I’ve found a way to help him. That's what I’ve gotta convey.  
I roll my chair across the litter ridden floor to the table, where I’m charging my phone. I send him a quick text:” Come down,” and roll back to where I was working. The bunched up paper balls and icecoffee cans part like the read sea to Moses. I listen to them clanking hollowly.  
The hatch leading here parts, and he peeks in:” do-do I c-come down?” “Yeah!”I shout back and lean my elbows on the table.  
He climbs down, back towards me, and as he reaches bottom he for the first time sees it.  
It just happens to be a physical lifeless copy of him. I mean that must be what it looks like to him, when to me it’s a newborn child nursed from a blood sample he had asked of the young boy for a non related experiment. “We need to just synchronise your memories to him, and you’ll have a brother,” I say all fucking casual. He looks at me and then glances at his clone again: “I- oh Rick I- I do-don’t really know. I’m not-I’m not very c-comforatable with t-th-this.” I get up:”No- no Morty, you gotta understand. This is just for you this time buddy. I’m not saying you're any less special or something. I just think you need someone to be your friend. Quite frankly you’re becoming a real Hikikomori. Not too attractive, if you want to ever get any action.” He walks to the clone, where he’s laying hooked up on life support (the extraterrestrial kind, mind you).  
I see Morty pressing his palm on his, like he's measuring how same they are. I walk to his side. Morty is expressionless... They both are.  
“All you Morty. He’s of course not full human, as he has a computer where his brains should be, but all of the human is you exacto.”  
“And you -you’d give it my memories?” he asks all wistful. It's adorable. Seeing my creations makes him look… beautiful.  
“Yeah… He’d become an individual with time, but it's all your memories ‘till today,” I answer, and lean on a shelf. “Will he come on adventures?” “Oh for fucks sake Morty! Sure, whatever, we’ll see as things come, but just answer if you want it or not?” “hmmh,.. jeez Rick… um. Uh. Yeah why not I guess.” “Great,”I say and stun him where he stands with my remote. The boy sags to the ground boneless. “Time to work Sanchez- Yes boss.”

 

Waking up is horrible. An elephant has tapdanced on my head, and I think I still hear the music. I feel his cool hand on my neck and then a syringe. The cold liquid feels out of place as it travels along where it's most needed. My vision blurrs as it gets its first lap through my head. My finger tips loose feeling and my heart feels sluggish. No more headache. Oh bliss. Here I come sleep. Take me in your sweet embrace.

I lean back on the counter once he's asleep again, and take a long hard drink. He should have been out all through the procedure. Good damn that must have hurt the poor guy. Can't change what happened. I take another swig. Where was I? Right.  
I turn back to the monitor and continue organising stuff without much though. Somewhere at the pit of my stomach and the back of my head, is a gnawing feeling. Guilt is a feeling I rarely indulge in. Should I really let this be the exception? Don't think so. I take a sip of cold coffee and push on.  
…  
...Morty.  
I feel like a creep saying the name these days. It reminds me of my own feelings. My complicated weird ass feelings. Morty is no longer expendable...And also I’ve started taking trips to this one joint where a cat-Morty takes me without judgement.  
I feel such deep shame. I keep telling myself to get over it, and move on. It’s not fucking okay! But it’s stuck.  
I glance at the two identical bodies, and my abdominal muscles cramp. It hurts to look at him while emotionally available like this. It literally hurts.  
I drink. Heavily. A good way to close these open doors, and put back up my walls. Back safe.


	3. Rainy days

 

 

When Morty woke up it had started raining. The rain had set itself above the city as a thick blanket, and it stayed there for five days.

The family took in the new Morty calmly, probably all thinking this was just another shenanigan that would soon pass. And they had promised that the clone would bleach a stripe of his hair to tell them apart, so how bad could it be? They had named him Corty, after a long arduous fight, through which Corty had sat quietly in the middle.

 

It was the morning of the fourth day, as Morty sat on the bed with Corty, doing word associations. Corty had taken a liking to Mortys previously favourite night shirt and sweatpants combo, and was now cozily lounging on his squeaky guest bed. They had pushed their beds together as they had found that holding the other's hand kept most nightmares away. Corty barely spoke. When Morty asked him about it, he said he was afraid of stuttering. Someone, who Corty refused to identify, had made a joke about how even his clones had the speech impediment. So a cozy silence had fallen.

One of them wrote down a list of words, then the other would mark behind that his immediate associations. They would study the others answers, then scribble their own, hand it back, and on and on. This was their second day doing this. Morty wanted to go splurge on movies or something with his new buddy, but the weather kept being a bummer. So word association it was. 

They're passing the paper tirelessly for the fifth hour, when Corty mid paper handing, pauses. He looks Morty straight in the eye and reaches his free hand to his doppelgangers cheek. Morty glances at the door, and understanding the request, Corty goes to close the newly installed stronger lock on the door. He clumsily, and with obvious excitement in his lanky body, bounces back next to Morty. Simultaneously they catch eachothers mouths in a hungry kiss. Everything is on the same level, and as such, when their bodies find one another, all is leveled. Their equally scrawny shoulders touch bony tips, creating between a grail of sorts. Flat muscle- and fat-free chests meet with a hollow 'thunk’-sound. And they moan quietly at contact into each others mouths. They know what they need, it's just hard to execute with no proper previous knowledge.

They fumble each other bare, and not really knowing what to do, just start groping all they can reach. Morty, heart racing in his ears, gathers the courage to get a feel of the others ass. Corty moans from so deep within his computer soul, that Morty (hands shaking) makes his way between the soft cheeks. Corty buries his face at the crook of his neck and sloppily starts kissing the skin there to muffle himself, as Morty has found his target. They play around for a while, never actually daring to penetrate, and grind together to the finish line.

They lay there, cheeks together in Mortys narrow cot, letting their sweaty bodies dry in the now heavy air. They kiss uncoordinatedly, and admire their own bodies in the third person. “It's hard to internalise that if I call you handsome, I’d call myself that too. You don't feel like me.” Corty nods, and yawns. Morty sticks his finger in the open mouth, without much thought. He just always wanted someone to do it to him, so of course he did it.

Corty is surprised for a moment, and then his gaze glasses over, and obediently he sucks in the finger. A nother follows. Morty pushes a third by the lips on a inward suck, surprising the other once more. Morty pushes deeper, and Corty tries not to gag. Surprisingly he soon has his entire first in the others mouth. Corty is sucking all he can, while spit drips down his chin, and he humms in pleasure. They please each other with hands this time.  As Corty edjaculates first, Morty pushes his head down to his crotch. While the other is still out of it momentarily, he fucks the willing mouth 'till it’s creamy.

Morty feels like he could sleep a year, and it's still so early they're still the only ones home. 

 

Basking in the afterglow Corty starts to finally speak: “If … If Rick ever finds out, our dream of-of- of becoming  _ his,  _ we can say goodbye to. Right?” I nod: “Not that he would reciprocate anyway. But I-i-I can hear it already 'M-Morty you sick fuck, you defiled th-the scientific golden rule to ne-never fuck a robot’ or some stupid sh-shit.” Corty nods and laces our fingers together:” H-he did make me for you, s-so w-wh-why not enjoy just that,” I blush, as does he. We nervously glance at each other every few seconds for a while, bot just getting over the rush of hormones going on within. 

  
  


Downstairs contrary to the boys beliefs, enjoying a Saturday morning whiskey with a luxurious strawberry ice cube, is Rick. He's looking at two monitors, earphones half fallen off, glass mid sip, frozen. Rick wanted to see how the AI would develop, and had started surveying them now and then out side social settings, such as in Mortys room by the two of them. He didn't think it’d be a big invasion as he assumed things would mostly be boring Morty-talk. Them first kissing had been something he had ignored. They were teens, it was just healthy. Eyes stuck on the screen he then saw more. Refusing to lessen his own growing uncomfort from a moral obligation standpoint, he just stared hypnotized.

He had frozen at the point where his name was mentioned. “Excuse me?” He asked the empty room, as if expecting an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critiques appreciated very much!


	4. Sunbathing and not really, but kind of, scheming.

 

 

On the fifth day of rain Rick took us to a cool blue sanded beach. Corty packed our bag, and I’m pleased to find within two toasts cut into neat squares in Tupperware. The old man told us to “stay put, and enjoy the sun on the hood of the car or something. Whatever the fuck you boys like doing in this setting. Beats me. Just don't lose the car again.  Later losers.” 

Morty spreads a picknic blanket on the warm metal, and takes a sip of water, as Corty takes his sweet time coming back from the toilet. 

They lounge and look at slimy families taking a dip. Cortys wearing shorts that Morty would never be brave enough to pull off. Morty drinks water, and as he's wiping an escaped droplet of water from his chin, he takes a long look at the beautifully arched body. Cortys small but round and -as he had discovered- soft buttox show through the tight fitting clothing like there's none there. A soft firm curve of the ass, creasing just a bit at the bottom, as if to show the muscle did yet have gravity. As Cortys stretching out against the glass dome, a bit of skin is exposed on his lithe stomach. Refined from a lack of fat, rather than the presence of muscle. Soft marbly fields, that call for him to snuggle against. 

Natural selection is in high regard everywhere. No culture explicitly encourages incest. It's against nature, and even if no one here knows them, they look very very similar. In a way similar that it would ring some bells very easily even for someone not familiar with humans. They don't speak our language tho. “You … y-you look edible,” I stutter my first ever serious sexually charged compliment. He turns to me, lowers his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, and raises his brows:” w-wh-who is this and how can I get m-more of him?”

“W-we c-could go inside the car and t-ti-tint the windows,” I suggest. We look at one another conspiratorially, and leaving all this ‘just a few dollars spent’- shit on the hood of the car, jump inside. A button press later we’re hidden from view, huddled together on the backseat. It's filthy, but that's how we like Rick to keep it. Knowing that were frolloking in his michalanious garbage is on both our minds intently as Corty gets pinned down against all of it. He looks like a ripe fruit, with those plump blushed cheeks. I gently bite the apple of his cheek, and then give it a gentle kiss. He turns a shade I know we become once a certain milestone of arousal is hit. Knowing we’re on the same page, gives me courage to grind on him. Hands in each others curls we pant and moan the car steamy, as we find a sloppy rhythm. It's not the most ideal way to get off, but surrounded by essential Rickness, and just with the thrill of doing it so spontaneously, we topple over the edge of caring.

“How abou- ah, shit right there- oh yeah- How about we start seducing that old man, an -oh, oh shit yeah- and see what happens?” Corty asks, face a blissful mess of emotions. “Oooooh, yeah,” I answer both to his administrations on my body and the question.

 

A while later we fix each other to look normal, but admittedly the afterglow is pretty strong and hard to cover. We get back up on the hood, and enjoy some much needed sunlight.

Rick returns after a while, and we go get some dope-ass hamburgers on a nearby asteroid.

  
  


As I walk closer to the boys, I’m casual. Like I didn't out of curiosity look at the cameras on my spaceship. I totes didn't duck in to the nearest bathroom as soon as I saw the feed. I’m not fresh out of the best damn wank I’ve had in ages. I don't show the guilt, which this time mind you was lesser. Maybe it’ll eventually fade away completely. Maybe not, and I’ll start to like it by association.

They greet me with a choir of adorable stuttered hello's. I dump the bag of goods in the car, pretend I can't smell sex, and then turn back to the boys. They look like to pale cheetahs lounging on a hot cliff, just enjoying the shit out of the sun. Corty with his blond streak of hair looks a bit like Frankenstein's bride, just hanging out on an alien planet. Mortys looking at me all shy and happy. “Ca-can w-we please go to blitz and chitz pleeease. I w-want to see if- how well he’d do on Roy. W-we already made a-a bet. Looser gives mom a massage.” I place my hand on my hip:” laaame. Looser has to give ME a massage, how ‘bout that?” They both scrunch up their noses in disgust, but Morty says:” I guess that's more of-of-of a punishment.” Corty nods. I ruffle both of their hair: “ Let's go play games mother fuckers!”


	5. The game is on, dipshits

 

A two person racer is easy as hell to find at the awesomest arcade of space and time. The two identically nervously exited curly heads run to the first we see, and barely can contain themselves enough to begin the tutorial mode. “Laaaame. Tutorials are for loosers. Just skip this part!” I tell them , then pointing at a snack bar:” Or like whatever you lamos, Imma get some alcohol containing mystery soda. Laterz.” They're too focused on the stuff on screen to even answer. “Fucking teens and their attention spans…” I mumble as I leisurely stroll down the aisle. The Kolopiran employee, in a stupid striped outfit, greets me very fake happy. He's slowly stewing and dieing inside. One whiny kid at the time. Just follow the role… Why even here they want their employees to pretend happiness, instead of embracing the cold hard truth that were just all miserable in our own quiet ways, just like every-fucking-where else. Every low-level customer service employee knows the feel of cheap clothing, and for fucking what. Keep growing mass ignorance on the true feelings of our kin. Fucking whack, that's what it is. 

 

I have stared at the employee the whole time. He has a weird facial expression, that can only mean I put a lot of my thoughts into my expressions. Who cares, I’m thirsty. “Two tiny pizzas, a jumbo slushie of… a bit of all of the flavours, and a liter of literally anything with alcohol. And don't ruin my buzz, by dumping some fucking ice in the booze, or I swear to god-.”

“Okay-okay!. Damn dude…” He answers and shaking his head fills my order. The pizza even goes in two to-scale boxes. Cool interpitation of earth cuisine.  With two buckets of non- and alcoholic beverages under his arm, Rick makes his way back. Damn I'm good, fuck yeah!

  
“Hey boys, got you some tiny pizza. They humm simultaneously, and go on playing. I look up at the screen they’ve gone over to the blue zone already. Wow. They're too similar to even let one of them win a videogame. The score displayed on the left hand side corner is 1770 on both screens. They're literally mirroring each other's moves. Morty mutters something a kin to a curse, and hits the pedal hard. He does a 360 degree loop by using two cars crashing on his side as a ramp. Midway through the air, he uses Summers move of spitting excelerant under the hood. Of course this is a videogame so it's just throwing a bomb behind him to use as a booster. Still pretty cool. Corty looks in disbelief at his screen and bumps into a nearby car. The score is now 2570- 1540 in Mortys favour. The leading racer touches ground once, and a simulated puff of dirt begins once more behind his wheels. Corty is very discontent, squeezing the shit out of his steering wheel, brows furrowed. Morty has a shit eating grin, as he leans closer as if to be closer to the action. Corty has fallen so far behind he’s now in the cluster fuck of cars where all the medium level NPCs are fighting like schoolgirls for attention. One purple car bumps him in the rear bumper, as he's skidding, causing an unexpected derailing. Cortys car does wheel barrels off the course. Morty has won. The kid is grinning and howling out in extasy. “Not used to winning are you?”I mutter as I’m handing Corty his snacks. Morty crosses the finish line, does a 'whoop-woop!’, and takes his food from me. Corty is not too mad, and Morty should be even happier. “Good game! Didn't know that was a legitimate move, nice.” I give the winner a high five. He blushes and nibbles on his tiny pizza like I’ve seen a rabbit-Morty do. They sit in silence, mouths stuffed. Corty takes their trash to a bin like a complaicant puppy…. Wait…. Is Morty superior to my simulated creation of him? Have I slightly underestimated him? Damn dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are golden :)


	6. Castles of sand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments most appreciated : )

Chapter 6

 

The boys play two rounds of Roy, which Morty dominates at. Corty gives Beth a foot rub, in accordance to the agreement. 

 

Right now I’m in the garage fiddling with Cortys files, looking for the source of his hindrance in intelligence. Nothing seems off… Maybe Morty has a quicker rate of learning. I boost Cortys learning. Then I stare at the screen for a moment, and drop it down again. What am I doing? Morty finally has someone he feels comfortable with. Why would I potentially take that bond away from him? No reason Rick, no reason. “Aaargh, this was so much easier when I cared less!” I mumble-shout at the stupid hunk of metal calling itself good technology. “On the universal scale humans are unevolved brutes, so you weren't even invented by smart creatures,” I tell my computer, give it a friendly kick on the side:” should boost you a ton with alien tech, but I think you're sturdier this way. And as you know m’ lady, the things I search online are actually punishable by law, so good to have something that I can plant a self-destruct function into without much care. Absolutely not sorry tho.” 

 

There is a timid knock on the door. I close the screen, and tell the intruder to enter. I recognise it as Corty by the hair stripe. He closes the door and rubs his arm. “Wazzup?”I ask casual, but I too have an inch to scratch my arm. “Uh..” he starts, shifts his weight, and continues:” I .. we n-ne-need to t-talk about Morty. Y-you made me, and the Morty inside me trusts you. S-so… mh.”

“What do you need?” I ponder a moment if I should just plug him in, as Morty in these situations takes a lifetime to say what he means.

“...J...Jus-just… I think Morty might need a little break. Like-like a vacation or something.”

Huh. Surprisingly straightforward. Too straight forward. Detachment issues in the code perhaps? 

I place my palms on the table: “A vacation, huh?…” He nods. A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead to his chin. Alarms go off in my brain. “Have you talked to him yet?” He shakes his head. “Well if you just keep bobbing your head, you’ll become a toy on my dashboard.” He blushes. I could eat his cheeks. “Weeel anygays. Tell him it has my approval or whatever he needs, and ask where he’d like to go… not Disneyland. By god not Disneyland or any amusement park or I swear I’ll make you an asshole on your forehead, and feed you just beans for the rest of your puny humiliating existence.” Corty raises his hands midway defensively and takes a step back to the door. “I-I-I don't really get what's going on here, but-but I’ll go do that ta-talking thing,” he says and makes himself scarce.

 

I bring my screen back to life, and open the security camera in their room. I’m not impatient per say, but just like to stay in the immediate proverbial loop. Nah.. admit it dude, you are just a creepy old guy in a dingy garage, stalking teens in their bedrooms. You a real creep homie! I chuckle and actually feel better after that thought. I lean back on my chair, and kick back my legs on the table. Yeah  _ home boy _ , what the fuck you gonna do about it? Earth prison could never hold me. There's always a way to fix things with the family too, like making these clones of our entire family, not telling Morty and coding the bots to be understanding of our particular sin, skewing his entire worldview with lies. Thus I have created a utopia where his wants towards his grandfather are perfectly acceptable, and we never have to confront any feelings, because it's just never a thing that needed questioning... I just have these super healthy thoughts don’t I? Real classy. Nice.

 

I rub my face and groan with frustration.

Let's let loose away from the family for a while. Yeah, it sounds kinda nice. “What you got for me Morty?” I ask the Morty on my screen, as Corty has entered the surveyed room.

  
  



	7. The Dune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critique appreciated! : )

We slowly approach a light brown planet. It has a thick asteroid belt, that I carefully navigate around.  A few ranges of mountains appear as faint shadows in the endless colour. Thick milky clouds are obscuring a good portion of the view. Good. I don't want to spoil their amazement. “I-is it like a-a desert planet like in Dune or something?” Not sure which one of them said it, but I guess not much emotional difference at this point. I’d fuck either, so who gives a shit.  “Yeah, sure.”

 

The ship enters the atmosphere, and she bucks like a wild horse for a bit. Sturdy as she is though, she soon finds her legs all on her own. Absentmindedly I stroke the steering wheel with my left thumb. A celebratory swig of my flask is in order. 

 

I dive her into a cloud, and for a long time we move through twilight. Boring. For just a second I turn her engine off. There are screams on the back seat, but I barely hear them over my momentary bliss, as we fall weightless through the thick. The boys cry in terror and I feel like a person. The clouds spit us out at the other side, and jaded by the sudden switch to reality-train, I turn it back on. The course stabilizes again and on we go. 

 

Morty and Corty forget their fear as our surroundings sink in. In my peripheral vision I see one of the pressed against the window like a fucking puppy. They’d look cute with tails. I mean it would make reading their emotions easier for them, as they could just look at their behinds. And the they’d feel all insecure when people knew when he was scared and shit. Morty. I hate you. 

 

I have to admit it is a good view though. I’ve seen the gardens before, but these fuckers do know how to soothe the eye in a one of a kind way. A vast oasis spreads between three ancient collapsed volcanoes. High transparent structures bustling with business people tower to the sky like columns of crystal between thousands of small hovering islands of jungle in the sky. The cloudy weather removes the blinding gleam on every surface that is the downside of the towers. Horrible place to be with a hangover. 

 

I land atop one of the columns. A helipad type platform sucks the ship down a tube through the building to ground level. We can see three headed dapper slug people working on their clear desks and shitting in their clear toilets. Different pipes move through the walls water, purple air, and previously mentioned waste. The sight of their yellow waste makes the boys uncomfortable. Adorable pussies.

The vehicle tube then pushes us out to ground level. “To avoid unnecessary airborne collisions,” I explain and make a sharp turn on a stoplight.

 

It's not a busy place by any standard, as these guys think plants are only for offices, so anyone not of the businessman variety would think it improper to surround oneself with such pointless weeds. 

 

A neon sign signals the hotel we are headed for. I catch a glimpse of Mortys face catching it's pink light on his face and eyes and I drink a gulp of his pure awe that he had once in the past when this was still all new to him and not just a way to get into grandpa's pants.  I will never apologize, because it's right to not be blind to the ugly in the world. But that look of..  extasy. Right. I just want to stick my dick in him. 

  
I park the ship, and we start our holiday.


	8. Pools

I hadn't realized I needed this too. My feelings towards Morty have made me tired. We really fucking needed this. Me and Morty and this vessel of distorted communication. 

 

I relax with my margarita , and from the shade of my sunglasses look at the boys in the turquoise water. The pool area is gleaming like everything else here. Corty is diving like a pro because he hasn't such fear of drowning as my grandson. No, fuck that. He’s a person not just a family tie, so he has the right to be called by his  _ name _ . That fucker across the pool in existential horror looking at his twin, he is the best out of all the  Mortys. The boy has his shins in water, and the silver framed shades bounce light from the water surface. This is not out of some necessity or whacky unfinished project bullshit, but he truly is sentimentally valuable to me. 

Corty surfaces, and as he pierces water surface, like in a cheap exploitation movie, water droplets fly around in arcs like flocks of glass birds. Jeesh Sanchez you're so original.

It feels like I’m watching porn as a young adult. I am constantly aware of how bad I’m  _ supposed  _ to feel, but as the new sensations hit me I’m struck with awe. Looking at them interact on the poolside and catching how their eyes linger on their lips as they speak, and the genuine yet casual smiles… It makes me feel uncomfortably good. I remember this feeling from seven years ago when I found my last new substance. A person has made me feel this way last when girls my age still giggled. 

 

Corty places his hand on Mortys thigh. He from the corner of his shades fixes me a quick look. I don't react. He turns back to Morty and slides his still dripping hand further up. I’m not ashamed to display my rising arousal. This is our balcony after all. I paid to have extra privacy and a view, so all insulted shall complain to the Hotel. 

Corty spreads Mortys legs to get closer, and presses a kiss on his sternum. The Original copy is a deep shade of tomato-Morty. He has opted to close his eyes, but the still nervous if hidden gaze, flutters the lashes. Thank God for these binocular modifications on my eyes. 

They're interrupted by a surprise food delivery, and I’m quickly forgotten. An aray of breakfast 'from earth’, a curiosity piece made famous in this hotel's restaurant. I deny all involvement and feign ignorance when asked. Of course I paid for it, but the absolute last thing I’m ok being, is romantic.

 


	9. Behind lenses

I pay for the boys to go on a safari. During their slumber I have modified Cortys files and added a few biomechanic parts. Unbeknownst to Morty I don't trust him like he thinks, but instead have given him a full-time bodyguard. Corty I have informed. He was understanding. 

 

But they're gone now. I should have- glance at the clock- about ninety three and a half earth minutes. I make a list of ways to get fucked alone in a hotel, cast aside half, then procure the chosen collection from my bag. My hands know the way, and I’ve taken my cocktail to bed not so long after. 

 

I switch on with my remote the projector in one of my eyes, direct it on the ceiling, and lock the image in place. Corty opens the connection immediately. They've just gotten on the crystal vacuum tube train. The desert opens as a featureless sea in front of them.

 

Morty is fretting with the safety equipment. “Check them for him,” I say. Corty answers my command, and pulls on the boys harness to test it hasn't got slack. A waterfall of data flows down my screen. I deem it safe enough. Corty pulls back. Morty looks at Corty with a slight head tilt, and a shy smile. There is a warmth in those eyes that conveys through a camera. He looks right at me, and nods. A few curls bounce more loosely, amping up the appearance of the movement. I have to close my eyes, as a childish impulse to hug him washes over me. 

 

As I come to, Morty is looking out to the never ending landscape. “Lace your fingers together,” I whisper. Corty takes the nearest appendage from the armrest, and does just that. Morty turns to Me- Corty surprised and a pink creeps up to his cheeks. No hiding the embarrassment now by looking away again, as the neck is a dead giveaway. “Caress his hand” I say, and Corty looking at it, begins to gently pet the skin. Morty sweats heavily on his palm side, and (with a testing the ice kind of move) he trys petting the hand back. Slowly building on the performance, he gets better. 

The waterfall now gives readings on hormone levels. Corty/I reach out capturing his face in my hands and kiss him. An embarrassed noise later, the seat is occupied by a mess of a person fretting in his clothing. A tiny wet spot at the front of his pants catches our attention.

  
  
  



	10. Ravings of a madman

A newsletter reaches me, pulling me away from my peeping. An earthquake has ravaged a near by moon. I’m sure we could go and feel like heroes by doing some easy fast work. I can see the crowd of people bowing down at our mercy or something equally cliche. These gigs are good money too…

The monitor blares out as the train starts. I don't need to look. Instead I discard the newsletter and drink. First I feel like just holding up my normal alcohol levels, but soon that thought is surpassed by the negging at the back of my mind. Some of the substances kick in. My train changes tracks, and I start operation ' _ Morty must not see me like this, oh why do I care, I dunno just fucking-ARGH!- YOu know emotions and shit, come on man, let's arrange for their trip to come to a safe elongation _ ’. A few messages later and another quarter of looking at my messages and pondering if I seem too fake with my wording- I mean Wow jeezus. “Don't let the drugs talk you out of committing mistakes because of drugs, it's just part of the experience!!” I shout at myself and send them. As I'm waiting for responses I have time to feel the next toxin kick in. If I ever wrote down a memoir in a real self flaturatory manner, I bet this part would be so annoying to read about...With difficulty I manage to use my phone to see the affirmative responses. After this… Yeah. Fuck off!

 

Two hours later on a lovely descent from the witching hour, I’m drinking detoxing tea with whiskey. The only good way to shake off the after tremors of the Murphylian aphrodisiac. Learned it from Birdperson… Dayumn son… I have a cry, and then feel like a newborn, while looking out at the beautiful city getting a light shower from heaven. 

 

Things are changing. I feel different. I think by accepting my long suppressed emotions for Morty, I’ve lost some of the things I consider toxic in my personality. No matter how I’ll look at this I cannot bring myself to feel apologetic about something that I feel only positively of. Life is still as much of a shit heap, but it's not as difficult to look at the beautiful. .. it’ll never be easy for me. Realistically I should be somewhere not understanding that things are not like in my youth, and slobbering as I try to munch on my stale burnt toast, but there just never is enough saliva to dissolve that sawdust.

I digress… I need to give myself over to the higher emotions. I have no excuses to hold back.

This vacation was a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :-{ 3


	11. Cortytastic

The boys are back. Corty has purchased himself a small crystal necklace. Morty opted for a table ornament crystal piece. Now they seem like hippies carrying around ways to enhance the channeling of their weak chakras or some bullshit. The longer trip I arranged them didn't seem to damper their mood, as they excitedly chatter.

Corty fiddles with the necklace, as Morty excuses himself to the toilet. Heavy air settles, and his smile dies partially. Corty is avoiding my gaze. I take a step forward. Gripping his chin to force him to meet my eyes like I’m checking a cheap victorian whores teeth. My fingertips are parting his lips to show some gum just out of curiosity. Corty flushes red as mucous membrane meets phalange, and he shifts his weight. That's right Corty. Reveal all his secrets…  
I move my free hand to the nape of his neck. A whimper escapes him, and as I with fascination look at his face, he has knotted his eyebrows and is chewing on the inside of his lips. I grip the gentle curls that wind down as a tail along his vertebra. He draws in air and tilts his head back lips parting.  
The small pink tongue is resting heavy in the small perfect mouth. As a frame they have soft plump mounds of (I assume) very sensitive flesh. A little bit of naturally secreted oil is giving them a healthy shine. It's only natural to kiss him. So I do.   
I’m bombarded with a shower of hormones, as the chemicals slosh in my tainted veins. It feels like rain on my face as a cool spring sun barely warms my face. My eyes closed Corty becomes the sun, and as I pull him closer by the neck, my bright spot of light moans. I pull away slowly as the bathroom doors lock clicks open. Morty should have easily seen us pull apart.  
A shoe is flown at my head. I guess I somehow deserve that. If they'd go down this supposed road of hippyism I could say it's just comeback carma. Ah thinking about shallow modern hippies with faith in astrology and spirit cleansing rosesalt, gives me the worst fucking hankering for alcohol. “Rick!” I turn to Morty. He is angry and uncomfortable. I throw him an emergency portal button to home, and save him the embarrassment of confronting hard emotions in front of me. It might turn me on to look at his humiliation so better for me too.

Corty has grabbed my lab coat from behind, and is weeping darker blotches on it. I feel the liquid seep through to my shirt and against on to my skin. Today has given me the oddest boner.


	12. What insecurities? You're the one that's insecure!

Corty was not invited to speak in private.

Back home in my beneath the garage space, Morty vents out: “ What the fuck did you do that for?!” I have already detached myself emotionally and autopilot has kicked in. Rejection stings like the most solid dipshit in the kidneys of all time.  _ You fucked up didn't you Sanchez, and now you lost him _ … So autopilot all the way to suicide or some other melodramatic showstopper. I interrupt Morty, as we both know I wasn't listening anyways:” L-listen. I know I’m a creepy old dude with like some weird feelings for my family, but I’m a smart creepy old dude with  **_science_ ** Morty! I’m sure I can make this go away, just let- let me think of so-” ”NO!”he shouts stopping my ramblings. We take a deep breath and step to the truth zone. I feel it like a wave of connected clarity between us. “You don't want this to end either do you?” I ask. His shoulders slump and he speaks to the floor:” no. I...I-I want to keep you, a-a-and I want to keep Corty…” I feel awkward just standing there and proceed to sit on the floor. I pat the surface besides me. Morty sits. I pull him in a sideways hug. “Tell me I’m- not just over interpreting your words, a-and-and getting my hopes up for nothing,”he says tired. He molds himself into my side, and I hug him harder. Looking at the top of his curly top, and all the shiny tight segments in it, I feel old. Difficult and undealt with negative emotions constrict the breathing and pull on my tear ducts as they try to procure actual water out of my red body-circulating alcohol that I call my blood. “I’m fucked up too, Morty,”I whisper.

Two warm hands hold me tighter. 

 

The significance of the moment lands as a blanket of self doubt and insecurities. I'm a horrible person, he doesn't deserve this. No! damn it Sanchez! Fuck normal, you control your environment, not the other way around... But now I have respect for someone else's opinion. Do I need my partner's approval like a 50's housewife? Fuck no! I need a drink. Pull yourself together man! Yeah! Okay, we’re doing this shit! … How the fuck would we make our relationship work? Some self loathing part of me wants to ask him just to validate my belief that true happiness is a myth, just a stupid not well enough understood chemical reaction.

He deserves to hear my opinion now doesn't he?..: “Hypothetically speaking, how-... How would we make this work.”

I feel how Morty turns to look at me. I’m filled with the need to look in his eyes. Was he prompted by the same urge? As our gazes meet, he looks like a new creature. One of hope and serenity. The thick row of lashes is like a gold gilded painting frame in the Louvre. “You're…”  _ beautiful.  _ I brush at his hair:” You really should go to a hairdresser. This -this... _ thing _ has a mind of its own soon.” I love his hair a bit overgrown and wild. Constant bedhead. I’ll tell him one day.

“Let's.. l-let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired. Got a-alot to think about you know?” “Yeah.” Too soon he is missing from my side. The room feels colder. He escapes before I can quip something witty.

 

A bottle of alcohol is easily procured from a floor stash with much haste. Thus I lay on the floor with my liter sized cool glass baby. The want to spy on them is so bad it's insane. This time I think I have to let them be, as I think I’m unable to open the screen from my nerves. Stop acting like you're young Sanchez… it's sad.

 


	13. Volatile ferrets

We’re collecting some radiation safe uranium containing rocks at a tiny moon just a few solar systems away. A few questionable experiment with ferrets from our local pet store is in order. “R-rick, what are you going to do w-with these?” I look at him as he bends down to swipe a cluster of the formations into a bag. “I want to blow up an establishment that sells used guns. But their planet is barren and a guns a blazing- type of tactic would be futile as the equivalent of an army would stop me. The planet does have a problem with underground pests. I bet those tunnels go aaaaal the way under that fucking shop. I just need a walking bomb that I can control via electronic parasites. Then BOOM. These rock’s contents are going to ensure they can't keep shop there for hundreds of years. Nothing better than good old nuclear weapons to do just that.” 

“Oh jeez R-rick I don't know how I feel ab-about this,” he answers and stops collection. It should be an sufficient amount regardless. I take his poutch. 

“Well it's not like you need to get involved, I think I can do experiments in the garage all on my own just fine,” I retort and turn towards the ship. 

“Fine!” he shouts back at me angrily.

I stop on my tracks and without looking back ask:“Do I- do my words really affect you so much that you'd-you'd really be fine with just Corty for a while, just to spite me?” It isn't meant to stirr his emotional beehive, but of course it does. This is Morty. The swarm of insects flares at my turned back:” Isn't that what you built him for?! To keep me company so you wouldn't have to!” The accusation hurts like fucking dagger. I turn around and stride to him and grab him by his collar. He tries to look angry and defiant, but as I slam him against a cliff side, he’s eyes are restless and his brow is sweaty. I look at him weak as an earthworm just like his father. I feel bad for him, just like I feel bad for a tetraplegic dog. I imagine this would be the point where his school bully would pull out a switchblade before I froze him………. 

 

I press my forehead on his. I’m not Frank, or whatever the fuck his name was. I’m a flawed human in my ways, but I don't need assert my dominance on this kid. He knows already who wears the pants. I need to learn to… be kind to him I guess. That's a new thought. But it's true. The only way this relationship could ever work is if I learn that. His body heat is comforting, and the way his hair smells like that new shampoo is homey. 

 

“Listen Morty…” He whimpers uncomfortably, and I loosen my grip on him. “...I… I built Corty- yes also for selfish reasons- but mostly because I can't be your only friend. You… yo-you need company of your own age. Someone who doesn't judge you, yet already knows what parts not to poke. I’m not that person.” I pull away, and look at him. He's torn. “Morty, just because you don't have to spend every minute with me anymore, doesn't mean I don't want to do just that.”

A silence falls. He looks at the ground and doesn't answer. I direct him to the ship. 

 

The flight home is quiet. We listen to some sleezy 80's rock ballads, and he stares at the relentless vacuum of space.

 

I fly the ship in the garage and before Morty exits, I place my hand on his shoulder. “Yes Rick?” he asks sounding tired. I look into his sleepy eyes, and smile:” thank you for helping me with those rocks.” He first looks happy, but proceeds to cry. He hides his tears behind hands: “ that- that means a lot.” 

 

Corty enters the garage fresh from his nap. Morty runs to him, and away from the situation. He does that a lot lately.

 

They're gone in a second. The radio died with the engine, but I turn it on again, recline my seat, and enjoy some tunes. A drink is in order. A celebratory one. Today we maybe made some progress. Who knows. I sure as hell don't.

  
  



	14. Shrines for god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please share your thoughts with me : )

“Hmm-hmm,” Corty asks, and pokes me on the arm with the edge of his drawing board. I assess his work. How do I feel inferior to him in skill? How- how is that possible? I nod:” y-yeah! That's really good.” I take the hand drawn portrait of Rick. Corty has shaded the face to have a shroud of intimidating intensity, by choosing a super bright light source right above the cotton like anti-gravity hair. Is this what I’m capable of? I think I’m just mixing my feelings for Rick with adoration for my skills. I can't possibly be worthy of praise.

“You can put it on the board,” I tell him, and watch him scourge for pins to attach it on Summers old corkboard.

 

The idea for a shrine came without fuss. I pitched it, Corty nodded, we rummaged the attic, now we're making it. Just a little pick me up at the back board of my closet, for that moment when I’m taking out a shirt. It just makes sense.

 

I’m cutting out mugshots of the man in question. Something about how he looks at the camera owned by 'the man’, screams condescension-related arousal for me. I’m just a simple young man. At least I’m braver than  _ the man who made me _ … I consciously try to distance all to do with me with all to do with him. As a product of my environment, but a sentient one, there is a great divide between how I act and think and how I think I ought to. A sentient fuck-up. A waste of space.

 

Why am I going down this thought spiral again? I wish I was like Rick. Composed and on top of all situations. On the other hand I’m better off without the alcoholism and drugs. 

 

“Corty. Hug,” I say. In a drop of a hat he is holding me. A poncho is keeping him warm as a fresh puppy. I love this. I love having my emotional needs tended to with understanding, and not neglect and drunken lectures on why I’m wrong and not as smart as Rick.

I nuzzle against his collar. He has an experimental clothing phase. Still the yellow has stayed the same shade of lemon. I think that’s also a bit of raspberry aroma. “You stole summers conditioner again didn't you?” I ask. He giggles, but stays quiet. It's plenty an answer for me. “It smells like her, not like us. Rick’ll notice,” I warn. He shrugs, and draws an absent minded circle on my shoulder. …”Yeah I-I-I know. He just has to-to learn to love us the way we are, but these emotions are- are really intense. It's hard. I want to just mold myself like soft clay to his will.” My monologue is stopped by him covering my mouth. He looks into my eyes, and I see mine reflecting off of his. He looks passive, but the message is clear.  _ Fight. _


	15. A letter

I have too many enemies.

It is common for me to find one in myself. Tho the man, who has written the message that arrived in the morning mail, is not me. I wish it was. At least I know how to react to that.

 

An innocent ivory envelope with grime from my fingers around the edges, and one side jaggedly torn by my teeth in frustration at the strong adhesive. From the opening is protruding a hastily shoved in (also grimy) paper. 

 

I know it is not possible to run away for ever, but it's still a rough stone to swallow. The contents are burned in my head, like a flesh wound in the gray matter. All Rick's should and shall have a unique way to go. This is mine. This brute is going to off me for a virginal bride. 

 

That bride walks in in the form of Cory. Oh my god that's it! I’ll exchange my life, for a replica of the real deal. Brilliant! I have a hibernating Morty clone laying around useless to begin with. “Stay put,” I command the clone. He must've had something to say, but it can wait more than this.

 

I ask for Morty to come to me via a text. I drink till he arrives, at which point the flask gets hastily shoved away in the closest open drawer. I’ve become quite conscious about him seeing me in the act. Corty looks at me do this circus act like I’m a mad man. Rightly so. Somehow he doesn't register as someone to change behaviour for. Don't want to ponder on that bottomless swamp for too long. Quite frankly the fact that I bend this much for another human is worth writing a psychology thesis on. So to not waste time just don't think about it.

 

“Wh-what is it?” asks Morty entering the room. I hand him the letter. He looks at me nervously, and unfolds the crumpled message.

 

_ This is my final offer for your grandson Mr. Sanchez. I will give you two of my moons (of your choosing) to do whatever you please with. You may even add them to your puny one moon orbit. Give that home of yours some much needed clout.  _

_ Morty and great wealth, or death. What will it be? _

_ The time of running away from the desicion has ended. I followed you to your little vacation. I see you have bought a spare one from the citadel. He didn't smell right so better not send me the stripehair, I will know. _

 

_ I beg of you. Ever since I had my first whiff of him at interdimensional customs my life has felt incomplete. I can assure with legal documents and guardians of your choosing he would be well taken care of! Anything! I just want to…. _

  
  
  


Morty hands me back the paper before he has finished reading it. It gets pretty graphic. He has perspired heavily and the paper now has my oily fingerprints laced with his sweat induced ones. “Inter-interdimesional cu- cus-customs?” he quotes. I nod:” that only time we’ve been. The first time you killed. He was hella impressed.” Morty scrunches his face, and shakes a little: “and-and he won't accept any other Morty?”

“You read the letter. He can smell you. His species has the most sensitive nose in the galaxy. His planets atmosphere is filled with odorfull thick gasses. The inhabitants have to have a keen smell to find one another in that brown fog. I call the planet eggfart. It's a very accurate description… for that and many other reasons you will not be going no matter what ransome scheme we come up with.”

His shoulders slump. He must've genuinely thought I would just hand him to the first person who asks for it. Corty takes his hand and they have a moment. I look in fascination as small hands grip their reflection.

  
  


“We’ll just have to figure out what makes your smell so special, and replicate it on a clone,” I whisper. Morty smiles.

  
  
  
  



	16. Breakfast at Pederastys

Morty seems very air headed right from the next morning. Corty has noticed a change as well, and keeps glancing at the side of the face of the original copy. Morty has a hard time concentrating on the breakfast, and keeps staring into empty space. Not one of those whimsical looks from princess cartoons, but the blank canvas of existential crisis kind.

I move my eyes to the robot brain. He's beautiful. A tiny bit of toothpaste is on his chin. Morty must've not noticed and said about it. This pale splatter is not smothering my feelings. They burn uncontrollably. I look at Corty and I feel my spirit lion flex. If I wanted I could “hack” him like a smartcar, and make him my sexslave… That joke made me unanticipatedly aroused. Was I even attempting to be humorous? This is why I call myself a bad person.

 

Of course I never would do such a thing, as it takes me away from a possibility that the seduction process will teach me how to handle the real deal, through good  _ or _ bad outcome.

I leave my thoughts on a shelf.

  
  


Two hours later Morty went to town to get some new caramel ice cream he read about. Corty stayed behind, promising to help me assemble a self-heating, bulletproof, blanket. I’m not paranoid, just being safe.

Now we’re in my room doors closed. A healthy estimate is that we have thirty to forty minutes alone. I sit on the edge of my bed going through a box of small scrap electronics. Corty has silently just waited for me by the door. 

We glance at one another simultaneously, and there is a weird shift in dynamics. Corty takes the box from my hands, and puts it on the ground. He then straddles me like that's something he always does. Our hungry mouths find each other, and then our necks and jaws, and ears… He’s a blushing mess, but every time he moves it feels like my core being shifts with. We have melted from the edges as one. 

My fly is opened by two exploring yet shaky  hands. I bite my lip as not to moan at first contact. Instead out comes an undignified huffy whimper. Encouraged by this, he lowers to his knees on the floor and pokes at my still covered groin with his nose. His warm breath has the hairs at the back of my head stood on end. 

 

Don't over analyze this, just enjoy the ride. For once…. So I semi black out, until I’m a panting pile of boneless human, and his perfect mouth with its perfectly rythmed suction is the focal point of my every particle.

 

I cum down his throat for an endless moment, in the purest of hormonal hazes. 

 

Sobering up on the other hand in my dingy, slightly smelly room gives me emotional whiplash.

“Congrats Corty, you basically just committed voluntary cannibalism.” Two sloppy fists meet my thighs, and I simply blink at the boy. He bites  my stomach, catching a slight fold just beneath my navel between his teeth. “Stop!!” I yelp. He looks me in the eye and slowly retracts. Simultaneously stretching, he returns to full height. “You better make sure his first time with you doesn't leave this bitter taste in his mouth too,” he says procuring confidence seemingly from thin air. No stutter. Did I sound too vulnerable? Morty needs to get laid too. Gonna be interesting to see how this develops. Is it going to be an anomaly, or a long term effect? Can't wait to get my hands on his readings from this moment! It's always science with you Sanchez, live a little without her beautiful ways once in a blue moon. That was the best release you’ve had in years, so how about I not obsess over my future actions?

 

My fly still open, I reach out to an uncomfortable looking Corty. He's a deer in headlights as I frame his face with my hands. Must try something… I tenderly kiss him. A thank you. 

As I let him go he looks floored. Vulnerable and open. I pull him down by his collar, yet for a chaste kiss. We share a smile, and he leaves for a shower.

  
Something feels different.


	17. Beta-endorphin

It took us fifteen minutes. That's a horrible time! Why was I in such a fucking haste? Who knows when I will unpussify and get some from Morty… Or Corty for that matter. Lame act old man.

 

My body is still trembling from the aftermath, as my eyes are scanning the room for some good way to prolong our time alone. I could maybe join him in the shower. I will fucking make the time and space bend to its rightfull master. Fuck everything! I will have sex with a clone of my grandson if I so please! 

I go down to the garage as my room is a dead end of ideas. There I catch sight of Corty undressing on my computer. As we were leaving I must've bumped it off sleep mode. Shouldn't have left it on in the first place. But I would be a fool not to take advantage of this sign from God, and I take a seat. His hair is all ruffled from removing his shirt, and he has a wistful smile upon his face accompanied by a rosy dusting on his complection. He got over his upset remarkably fast. I blame the fucking hormones. Those sly fucks. 

He has entered the shower, and after carefully choosing a temperature, hes feeling himself under the water. A (less shy without company) hand is taking a journey on the blushing expanses of skin. The muscles on his legs flex and relax in a rhythm as he leans against the wall with his forehead. His teenage virility is like a magic trick.

  
  
  


Five minutes later I’ve hastily just arranged for Morty to get delayed by Beth. I bought them tickets to a new romantic comedy playing on the nearest cinema, and bribed Beth's boss to give his employees the rest of the day off. I’m on fire as I open the showers surveillance feed window back up. He's lazily shampooing his hair. 

 

At the back of my mind a firecracker goes off. A Grinch like grin spreads on my lips as I open Cortys files. I open the connection between his brain and the computer. From the long list of real time data I find the beta-endorphin read outs. Doesn't take long to calculate a considerate way of adding to his pleasure. Finger on the plastic trigger, I watch as he hurls his toes and humms. He starts massaging his scalp with longer strokes, and getting loose on the hips. He takes an experimental thrust at the wall, and I reward him with another boost of endorphins.  He lets his head slack and begins stroking himself in earnest. I soon get his rhythm and begin giving him small spikes every thrust. He takes a hand towel, and bites down on it after drenching it in water to muffle his helpless cries. His free hand is grasping at tiles, but I’d much prefer it to be useful. “Use both hands,” I command him. 

At hearing my voice his eyes fly open, and he gains a self aware impish look about him. He incorrectly assuming my camera is behind the mirror, turns towards it taking a displaying stance. My camera is not far off from where he is looking at, but it feels even naughtier as it's like he's not really performing to me but this imaginary mirror Rick. The imaginary Rick must have a riot.

 

I give him a big spike as a gift. Corty let's out a shaky laugh mixed with a moan, towel a forgotten wet pile on the floor. He slides down the wall a foot and spreads his legs to give Mr Imaginary a good view as his hand collides with his inner thigh with the most glorious slap. I don't even touch the endorphins and they spike like he became a cat in heat. He arches his back and quickens the pace of his occupied hand. He takes a quick inhale, I give him a spike, and he comes undone.

  
He makes a right mess of himself as I feed him so much feel good that he’s convulsing on the floor and giggling in ecstasy.


	18. Nightmare fuel

“I either hit super puberty, or you’re one fucked up grandparent,” Corty announces as he steps into the garage. He seems more amused than angry. “All me baby,” I say and twirl on my chair towards him.  “So how did you get them to stay out longer?” he asks and sits on the floor.

“Sent them to see a movie just them girls. We have ample time to get engaged and have a messy divorce with red wine and sleeping pills, before they’ve exited the theater.” He chuckles at this. Almost hoped he’d play along and we’d have witty banter about Beth, but guess not. Maybe he's not ready to joke about it.  “Ball fondlers? I’m sure we can find some rerun,” I suggest. He nods, gets up and leaves for the living room. 

 

We settle for funny commercials, and an undefined amount of giggling later he snuggles up on my side. He's still breathing irregularly from seeing a chocolate bar eat itself and whine about the pain. He had observed the chocolate was much like him. I didn't agree, but laughed like an idiot despite it. 

He turns to me somber: “Last time he threw a shoe at you. He could do much worse this time.” “I’m touched,” “Yo-you ass. I’m worried about him not you. You-you're like a fucking cockroach sur-surviving nuclear fallout every day. Very-very hard to feel sorry for.” his stutter seems to be shifting back in place. “Ooo-kay… well if it makes you feel better if you lop my head off, I won't survive unlike a cockroach. And also I do feel bad about what we did. Very little tho mind you, but I’m not stone. I…” I take Cortys hand and fidget with his hand with the forefront of checking under his fingernails, and then continue: “ I don't just think you're hot pieces of ass…” He looks at me with wide eyes, and then turns to the TV without really looking  _ at _ it. “Oh,” is all he says. I search his face, but he has gone to cyberspace. We fall back to watching TV.

 

Some time later Beth's car pulls up on the driveway. “You tell him what you please,” I tell Corty as I get up and go get a glass of water from the kitchen. I didn't believe what I said. As I reach for a glass, the front door opens. I hear happy chatter from the foyer. Maybe my lazy subversion was beneficial. I’m turning the faucet as Morty enters the kitchen. I see him from the reflection on the tiles. Hard to say what he thinks, nothing gives it away. He leans on the counter next to me and says 'hi’ as Beth enters with some groceries and happily chats away while shuffling them to the fridge.

“It was so nice of you dad! We had a wonderful time,” she says while Stuffing a broiler in the fridge. I bend down to kiss his forehead, and behind my back I hear a murmur:” too nice…” 

Oh Morty. I wish you were yet blue eyed. Would be easier. It's my own damn fault for toughening you up with harsh words and real life experience.

 

I turn back to my daughter with as much haste as is inconspicuous. “If you wouldn't mind I’ll steal your son on an hour long adventure. We’ll be back by dinner.” Beth looks up from his place down by the freezer and she has a happier expression I’ve seen on her since… well since the divorce. She whispers all teary:” after what you did to us today, I can't say no.” I bid her goodbye, with as much of the same happiness as I can, but it doesn't really take. She doesn't notice from her cloud.

 

I feel like a lying manipulative asshole. Morty follows me as I leave for the spaceship. On the way the lump that is forming in my throat and a nervous twitch in my left eye, get worse with every step. I feel his presence looming behind me. Who would’ve known I was still capable of such self whipping.

 

Corty is leaning against the ship as we enter. He looks at me not even remotely convincing at being casual. Don’t know if Morty notices anything. It almost makes it worse. As the boys enter the backseat I see Morty swatting away Cortys hand. My twitch gets worse.

 

As we exit the troposphere Morty clears his throat. Here it comes. “Sooo.. wha-what were you up to while I was away?” he goes for casual. I hear the strain in his voice, or am I just paranoid? I see Cortys face twisting on the sideview mirror. That boy is about to break any second. I need to be in control of the situation and that lip biting is the opposite of control.

 

“Corty gave me a blow job,” I state.

“Stop the ship.”

“What?”

“Stop the fucking ship you uncontrollable bacteria infestation of a man!! Stop the fucking ship!”

“Whoa,” both me and Cory say simultaneously. That was very wordy.

I put the ship on hover mode, fingers clumsily slipping on the control board as I do. I feel a single drop of sweat rolling down my neck. I turn around uncomfortably to face them. The serene backdrop of a sunny sky is in stark contrast to the fuming mess of a man who's staring daggers at me. “Why are you not looking at Corty like that too!?” He spits back: “Because that’d m-m-make me a fucking hypocrite! But there is _ always some fucking reason to be angry at you!!”  _

Damn that stung. Now I have my nightmare fuel for a month. Morty begins crying  against his only real companion.


	19. What a wrench!

My god was I right about the nightmare fuel. While sipping on my coffee and checking my interdimensional e-mail, I catch from the side of a large shiny wrench, my own face, and I feel like pulling a skreamgirl move, by covering my face partially from horror. I look like hell. 

I kept having fucking nightmares after we had returned home. We did go on that adventure too. Like the fight was a maximum six minute thing, and then everything just went back to normal, accept he kept being passive agressive and a right dick. Like holy shit! Yes you have all of the rights to do that, but Jesus on a flaming flurpian I got it already.

 

Beth noticed, but probs though we had had some misunderstanding on our quest, and would sort it out on the next one. 

So I watched some TV alone, and emptied a bottle of Merlot. Dunno why we have such a thing arround. Someone must’ve taken  _ real _ pity to my daughters situation. 

As the last drop fell from the mouth of the bottle, I was asleep. 

 

That's when the brittle well fueled branches of my brain took fire.

 

My nightmares are fucked up. Yeah it's how it's supposed to be. My mind is trying to salvage the good in me by showing me images of my truest terrors, and thus kind of purge myself, by making me talk to me in the abstract. I don't really give a shit about psychology so let's just pretend this is the truth no matter the truth, because I don't care enough to do research. 

 

This is why I totally get why my reflection is so vulgar.

  
  


…

 

It's weird. I feel like apologizing or explaining myself to Morty. But what fucking explanation would I give? Oh yeah, I was testing how to approach you by manipulating everyone. Smooth.

 

Maybe his hatred will tire itself out, and all will be back to normal in a few weeks. Maybe I should take off for a while. Give him some space. Should really make it a permanent trip, but I have a hunch that I’d be back in a moment no matter, from pure need. I hate being this invested in someone else's well-being. I’ve stopped being rational at such close proximity. I have to take space. I need to get out of here!

 

It takes thirty seconds and I’m starting the engine. I look into my own eyes in the rearview mirror. This is what a coward looks like Morty. Stop thinking I’m anything but a drunk mess. I deserve nothing from you.

  
I set sail for a strip club.


	20. At da Bomb shelter

On the underbelly of the Citadel hides a club for the best paying and most twisted Rick's. It doesn't have a name or windows. An old mass bomb shelter underground with one entrance, guarded by three bouncers armed with guns. Only members can enter, and to get a membership you have to bribe kings with royal sums. Cops never even look it's way. It's an unsaid rule. It's like an independent city-state. All the biggest dogs change cargo hidden behind those walls.

 

Gained myself entrance five years ago. I sold biological weapons that turned tides of wars, and whored myself out by selling some lucrative blueprints to well paying Ricks, and slowly crawled through the maze of kings. The membership card is embedded in my shoulder. Covered the small scar with a tattoo and a small skingraft. The skin graft is in the shape of Pluto, and it's coloured in with ink. Can't tell it's even there. And that better be the fucking case, because if word gets out you own a membership, you’ll be dead in a week, and someone else is hiding his scar.

 

The taxi stops right in front. I pull my incognito jacket to cover all my identifying markers with 100% certainty. I step out of the cab without paying, and one of the bouncers jogs to give the cabbie a check. All travels pro bono, it's club policy. I stop right at the door. The bouncer Rick and I exchange looks, and he lets me slip by. He hasn't seen me in a while, and I see no look of recognition. Not that I’d be that distinguished. It's not bad security but as he pushes a button, and the first door opens, the first wave of security kicks in. As I pass through and the door closes I’m left standing in a dark vestibule. If I hadn't a member chip my heart would be stopping right about now.

 

A blue tinted hologram of a very ordinary Morty appears. “Coat sir?” he asks, and a small single led lit unit opens from the wall. It has a coater and a small rack for shoes. I hang the coat and start toeing out of the shoes. I’ve undressed as the hologram is instructing me to remove my shoes:”.. and all items brought in will not be covered by insurance in case of injury. Read more on insurance at…” I tune out and drum my fingers against my thigh. When did they make the hologram this annoying? Should send a complaint to their it-guy. I didn't come here to make good with my insurance.

 

“Today's theme is  _ heaven.  _ Enjoy,” the holo announces, and finally the doors open.

 

I’m on a balcony that looks down to the dimly lit club. Experimental R&B floats on the air at a enjoyable level, and all the lights emit only dark orange. It's built like a square amphitheatre, with the mainstage being the lowest of five levels. The evening not in full swing, and at least fifty members are getting drinks and bustling around. Their movement are exaggerated by the twinkle of all the various gold ornaments on their being. I see no other employees than three at the bar that takes a quarter of the fifth tier, so it must soon be showtime. I check the time from my wrist, and I have about ten minutes before I need to be seated and have my chart filled out. So I head for the bar. As I’m walking I check my phone. No messages. I turn it off. Don't think anyone will even notice if I won't turn it on for a few days.

 


	21. Fuck

As I sit at the bar a punk Morty, handing a real fancy margarita to a Rick, smiles as he sees me. “Heyy! It’s Mr  _ can I get more whipped cream!”  _ he shouts at me, and all Ricks sitting at the bar turn to me. They start shouting hello's my way, and I do recognise them all, but the cringe from how I got my nickname is too strong, and I rub my face. I just wave at no’one in particular. The Rick closest to me wearing a full body harness pokes the screen, on the table in front of my stool, to life, and reminds:” better ask for that cat-boy of yours quick, I’ve heard this new oil baron has his eyes on him too, but haven't seen him here yet. Have haste.” I thank him, order some vodka and eucalyptus based cocktail, and turn to my screen.  It's scanning my history and as it's done it gives me a recommendation. It's perfect. I sign the document and send it forward. The screen shuts back off.  

My neighbour turns to me once more:” so where’ve you been dude?” He seems conserned. It's not unusual for patrons to go in hiding from an assassin or something. His thoughts must be on that track as he seems worried.

“Got wrapped up at home,” I tell being as vague as possible. “Your Beth going through a divorce? It made me lose interest in this place for months,” he's comforting me. I just nod. They don't need the truth. A few other patrons give me their consolidations. 

“Almost curtain call,” the punk Morty anounces. His voice is raspy. 

“Since it's your first time in a while, I guess you don't feel like sharing a table?” my neighbour suggests. I shake my head. “I get it,” he answers and gets moving towards his regular table on the third tier. I take a glance towards my regular place on the second tier, with the custom red velvet sofa. It was made right to my specifications and feels like sin.

It hasn't gotten much wear, because just like today and so many other days, as the lights begin to dim to non existance, I slip by the bar and to the private areas.

 

I hear the music get louder and as I close the divider, muffled to nothing. A long corridor lined with flower arrangement and red cherry wood doors. The flowers are so sented in this narrow hallway, it's almost like getting drunk. One of the doors lights up a bit. I walk to it. A small screen on it tells me to enter with my personal passcode. I type in Jerry's predicted year of death and initials. The door hisses and after a few clicks it parts slightly. My heart rate picks up, and I take two shaky breaths. The door has no handle, so I grab the crack and pull it open.

 

Cat has redecorated.

The room is lined with rare animal pelts roof to floor. All pillows, loungers and carpets are made of the ex-living. Even the giant chandelier has stuffed minks perched on its lampshades. 

 

He's lounging in a silver cage on a pile of wolf pelts. He's wearing nothing but his natural slick black full body fur. His long tail is wrapped around one of the bars, and around his neck I can make out from this distance a thin gold band.

He looks at me with a wicked grin on his muzzle. He is fucking devine.

 

“Oy! Whipped cream!” I hear from behind me from the corridor. I look behind me to see who the fuck dare interrupt me.

A Rick I don't recognise dressed in a latex trenchcoat is walking towards me. I hesitate a moment, because I could just close the door and ignore him. It might be some good business so better just hear him out. “What do you want?” I ask. 

He stops right in front of the door. I step out to the corridor, and close the door. No others to taint the sanctity of the boudoir.

 

He shakes my hand:” I represent the Prince of Badurp. I’ve been waiting for you to pass by the club for a long ass time, bro. My comrade has been following you on your little adventures ever since you refused to give him his true mate. After your little trip to crystal city you’ve been under heavy surveillance.” I had completely forgotten about that fucking letter. Bye bye boner, see you next week. I glaces at the door longingly. This trip is now a fucking waste of time.

“I haven't seen you in any of these places you claim to have been,” I retort giving in to my fate.

“Yeah, well we were hired for a reason.”

“Sure. You could’ve just put a tracker on my car and just say you were there. Prove yourself.”

“Fine Rick, I shall! We could tell my boss you aren't sending him the goods because you can't resist chasing forbidden fruit. You are insane! He will get you killed. You are tainting the young man with your personal demons. Heavens sake! Can't you see he's just a child?” 

Oh shit. Panic!: “You think he's better of with mister 'your grandson smells good’!? Are you fucking insane?! He's fucking happy right where he is! Yes, there are things that are not perfect, but I don't believe there is a place where he can truly be happier. He  _ belongs _ with his family! He belongs with me. On  earth ! “ I hope he doesn't notice my slight sway.

“See Sanchez, I’m just a middleman. I’m telling you If you don't bring the goods intact to my employer, you are done. I don't like to see people die, so I’m telling it to you how it is. In this club we are brothers brought together by common ground. Outside of these walls I could never be this frank, but instead would’ve sent you letters. Take this as a kindness.”

“I still have months...”

“But then your time with him is up. Be a big boy. I know you can build a new one for yourself,” he pats my shoulder,” it's just another Morty.”

“I can't thank you.”

“I don't expect you to.”

We share a look of understanding. He turns to leave, and I don't stop him.

 

Fuck.


	22. Self reflection

I open my eyes, and it takes a moment to orient myself. I’m lying on the softest of furs, and it smells delightfully of murder. No light sources. A good way to wake up when in a hangover.

A petite paw is moving up my body, and a disembodied voice purrs. 

 

So I’m still here hiding from Morty...

I remember taking more substances than the rest of the year combined. My body feels abused and old. Convenient as all the biggest dealers are having orgies right next door. My body feels abused and old. How long have I been here? Three days? Two weeks? The aforementioned substances have a heavy hand in driving my loss of understanding time I’m sure. 

 

“Want some breakfast? I can call the restaurant next door, and get one of the bouncers to pick it up,” Cat suggests surprisingly close to my face. He smells of debauchery. “Sure,” I answer. Some rustling sounds tell me he got up. 

He leaves me lying in the dark on this soft nest. Something feels off. Off but familiar.

 

Oh… I’m coming down from acid apparently. Here I come me. Let's have a chat shall we asshole?

 

So Rick:

What am I doing here? Am I so insecure of my lack of control when it comes to his emotions, that I preemptively push him away by justifying momentary slip ups that drive me to a path of inflicting pain upon him. Oh my god. That's it. 

God I love him. There is this childlike innocent light emitting from within me, begging to get shown to the object of my enamourment. I need to tell this to Morty. No Rick, not when fucked up remember!? Your saucepan pupils would give you away even to the thickest of Mortys. Dejavu. I’ve had this conversation with myself before haven't I? Shit… What was I thinking of again?... 

 

Morty. I have to communicate to him this light. He needs to know I’m still capable of true feelings. I need to apologize…

 

As I grab my ships steering wheel I realise I left the club. I’m not wearing anything but a big silk scarf. Where the fuck did that come from?

 

“Ship, I need you to autopilot me to earth while I think about the meaning of life and look into the endless abyss of space.”

“Affirmative. Autopilot target set for Earth, garage.”

  
  



	23. The get down of the record

The ship lands and I go home running. Only Morty and Corty should be home. I check the living room/kitchen first, but they're empty. I jog up the stairs and see that the door to Mortys room is slightly ajar. Cortys eyes meet my own, and he stiffens. I approach with calculated steps. They're solving a virtual puzzle, and sitting on the bed.  
They turn to me Corty nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, and Morty looking disengaged and above this. A cold shoulder huh? That's how it is now..?

“I was feeling inadequate, and did stupid things to justify why I didn't deserve you and thus wasn't brave enough to make a move on you. It was the most genius idiotic thing I've done. I know I have broken your trust, but I see my mistake and admit it.”  
He looks at me one eyebrow raised and is not bloody buying any of it.  
“Morty… what I feel for you doesn't feel like it's wrong to me. It feels pure and innocent. I’m so fucking sincere when I say ‘fuck everyone’ else. We can skip town and cruise on down somewhere where we can start anew. I won't even blink towards denying you that option. I’m a broken as hell man Morty, and I’ll never be parter of the year, but if you’ll have me, I promise to work hard to keep us sain. We’ll sit down once a week and troubleshoot. We'll work together within our given resources to find fair solutions to everything. I’ll respect your word as equal. My only border condition is that the family will not be told unless we will leave this planet. You know I manipulate destroy and dominate all around me if I see it benefiting me. I know you know, I’ve even done it to you before too. Imma be honest, can't say I even feel guilty. That's who I am. But if you can look past my rotten bark, and dig within: will you have me?”   
“Ri-rick… this just- th-the w-what ever you’re on this time- talking. You’ll sleep it off and things will go back the way they are,” he says just sounding tired. I guess I’ve fucked things up so bad even sincere words don't get through. It feels as if someone stabbed me and now my insides are just bit by bit falling to the floor, leaving me hollow. That light, that innocent feeling, moves up from the heart, to just constrict my throat. I want to run away, like an emotional ball of sadness at a school ball whose partner just grabbed her pussy in front of everyone. Shouldn't have let him this close. I knew it was wrong. My knees feel weak, and my head is lofty. Suddenly it just makes sense to make myself less vulnerable, and I fall to my knees to hug my guts back in me. I can't scrape them back, and instead opt to just hugging them to my chest. A strange wetness flows down my chin and soaks up on the collar of my shirt. Shit I’m crying in front of him. I should go hide my shame in a closet somewhere, that would feel about right.

Two pairs of hands enclose me from two sides. “I’m so sorry Morty. I fucked up,” I whisper. My voice doesn't want to carry speech, but it pulls through by pretending to be prepubescent. Their combined warmth and comfort is like a blanket, enclosing me in safety. 

They're silent until I calm myself. Then the three of us just lay down on the floor and stare at the ceiling. It's blank whiteness is cathartic.

“I forgive you.”  
Even Corty is surprised by these words. We turn to him, as he keeps staring at the ceiling: “I… I-I want to be angry, but this is progress.” His maturity fills my heart with pride. “Look at me,” I whisper and get up on my elbows. Two pairs are fixed on me as I say:” I love you.”

The air holds a to me yet unknown weight. He shovels my guts back in me and sews the hole shut. I yawn. I could sleep a year. I feel a timid kiss on my cheek, soon followed by another on the opposite cheek. I pull them in a hug. They don't need to say it yet. This is enough for now.   
“As cute as this is, I think I’ve only taken naps for a week, so I’ll hit the hay,” I say and get up. I feel odd distancing myself from them now. It's like I’m leaving a part of me on the floor. Odd.   
They bid me goodnight in choir. 

I fall asleep hopeful.


	24. Insanity

Me and the boys have been chilling and doing some small missions. They seem happy... It drives me insane.

 

I watch them sunbathing on the backyard. I sit in the living room while pretending to tinker. The item in my hand in reality is just a piece of garbage electronics. It had the least sharp edges from the candidates in my trashcan. I am able to work with it half-heartedly and keep my focus on the boys. Morty is telling his companion of the time he shot a real big shot smuggler. He is telling the story very accurately and honestly with vivid details even I didn't before recall. He tells of fear and powerhunger. He cracks jokes. They smile in that genuine goofy way that almost makes him uglier.

 

Why aren't they talking about me, but of this pointless but obviously powertrip self flatulation? Morty knows Corty knows all this as they were  _ both there _ a year ago.  Don't they feel the constant pressure caused by all the unanswered questions, like I do? Are they just on a denial trip because they don't want to face their negative emotions, or am I just thinking it too far? Maybe this is just their cruel taunt for my weak emotional side. It's all a conspiracy and truly this is all orchestrated by some villainous Morty who has chosen to make all Ricks suffer for their carnal sins. Bring out the tinfoil hats.

 

Fuck you, you little punk's. You have made me fall apart at the edges by trapping me in and making me care. I am vulnerable as hell. They could just tell me they didn't like my haircut, and right now I would consider hearing them out. Am I a Rick, as I’ve  _ chosen _ to allow someone to have this much sway over me?

 

I get up from my seat and walk over to the sliding doors. A breeze is ruffling trees and shuffling hay. Dexterous small birds are dancing on ghusts.

The boys nearly glow in the sunlight as their pale skin efficiently soak rays. Morty hasn't touched me since I returned, and looking at his soft features, my heart stings with insecurities. Has he not truly forgiven me, and can't bear to touch me on instinct? My happiness is in his hands. It is more terrifying than when I first dabbled in bdsm.

 

My groin stirs and I almost (in a very baroque  feminine manner) gasp with surprise. I am dominated by Mortys silence, and it pleases me. Perhaps this is what I truly want- need. I can feel my jugular throbbing. Morty is just nervously laughing on a picnic blanket. He is perfect.

  
  



	25. Mash

Beth is meeting with colleagues for lunch, and I’m eating leftovers with the boys.   
Our mashed potatoes have a fridgelike taste. Someone forgot to place literally anything on top of the kettle but leftover naan bread from Indian takeout night. It had all those beautiful hills and valleys so it let in the fridge air and also got ruined by it. So no delicious naan, nor homemade mash. Just pre-marinated pork then. Healthy. Shit.

Morty has put more butter in his potatoes to solve the issue, and is pretending he didn't fuck up and now want the naan bread just like me. 

Am I being too pushy?  
I feel like I might be manipulating him. He can't actually like me, because come on dear lord. So it must be that I have unintentionally planted the sexual seed in his head by at some point going over the line. Then maybe from then on, every time I showed him affection, he translated it as an expectation to act in this inappropriate way. So all this time I have grown him into this perverse creation I just myself craved. Thus my advances technically are against his will, as this isn't really his choice but just my unintentional brainwashing.

“Morty…” I think out loud. The both stop eating. “Do you think you actually like me from your own free will?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What other option even is there? Rick, what-what are you on?” Morty retorts with whiplash speed.   
“No need to get all defensive. And I’m currently on, the only thing my body actually needs :alcohol”  
He doesn't even answer .  
“Ooh-kay. Something you want to share?”   
“I don't like you insinuating, that what I feel isn't real. Only you are allowed to change my view on you. Don't you dare push me further with that shit.”

Very hard not to listen. “Big words”  
“Yes Rick. Big words. Now be a fucking adult and trust me.”


	26. Fake sweat

Corty and I are watching tv. Rick is in the garage doing whatever he's doing. I’m massaging my sofa-companions feet. I wish I had the courage to go to Rick. I want to go show him affection. Maybe just touch his hand, or even just look at him. I know he is a complex man, who needs time adjusting, so I’ll just wait here and look pretty while fondling toes.

 

There is shouting in the garage. In a split second we’re on our feet, adrenaline pumping. The garage door falls off of it’s frame in pieces. A small metal cauldron is on the floor, looking innocent. Quite a projectile.  Rick stands behind what was the door, red in the face:“FUCKING FUCK! Boys pack your bags! We’re going for good. No time for questions. You have five minutes. MOVE!”

 

It feels mechanical. We take the essentials from my room and the bathroom, and before due time, were back down with bags. Rick shoots a portal on the wall, and we leave earth.

 

Reality checks back in at the point where we enter a shit hole hotel room. Rick takes a roll of duct tape from his pocket and seals the door and windows, then taping the curtains to the wall. “What's going on?” Corty asks. Rick sits down against the door:”Grandpa poked a wasps nest.  I opened negotiations with royalty, and offended them. Thought I’d have months to work on creating a fake, but he grew impatient. Probably shouldn't have as a reply sent him a pair of underwear drenched in an artificial recreation of your sweat, when I wasn't yet sure what parts are the crucial ones with his species’ smell recognition…”

He drinks, and we silently watch. 

Rick then gets up. It looks laborious. 

“Don't do anything stupid,” Corty pleads. I agree.  Rick rubs his face:” I’ll have to. He is going to have a little accident. Dunno what I'll do yet, but it's coming.” He drags himself to the bathroom. As the door is closing, our eyes meet. He is illuminated by the light lining the grimy bathroom mirror. He blends into his background by looking like a true junkie. Sunken eyes, stained clothing and all. Looks like a bad PSA against drugs. My mind's eye conjures up an image of Rick working around the clock to keep me. It would be an easy to swallow excuse for his recent distance. It would bring me peace of mind, but knowing Rick he just had some other project he has been obsessing over. 

 

I have to stay hopeful, to stave off insanity.

“Can- can you ask for someone's help? Just this once, Rick. Killing royalty sounds like it m- it's not ju-just a-a real stroll in the park kinda thing, you know?” 

He re-opens the door some. “...I guess I’ll just call my assassin friend who always dreamed of getting brutally killed after years of torture in a fart smelling government facility... Believe me, if someone is stupid enough to agree, they're not worth recruiting.” Corty grabs my hand. Rick closes himself in the toilet. I hear the tap running. The old plumbing groans. Corty hugs me. We're scared.

 


	27. Projection

Rick left two days ago. We’ve been cooped up in the hotel room for weeks. There is a makeshift kitchen where the TV would be. An old toaster oven, is balanced atop a repurposed mini bar. Rick had time to stew in his paranoia. He did interdimensional grocery trips, and a whole section of the small room is dedicated to hoarded food. Everything from canned corn, to condensed milk and spices. We’re well enough prepared for even the apocalypse.  
But Rick hasn't returned from buying weapons. No one should know our location, so we’re safe as long as we don't open the blinds. He told us not to use our phones for anything but receiving his calls. It feels safe, but Rick's radio silence is unnerving.  
The TV lays on the ground and we sit on the edge of the bed, marvelling at its vapid content, and laughing our ass off at botched cosmetic surgeries.

Corty falls asleep hugging me. He smells like cheap soap and canned mushroom soup. I smile down at his perfect face. Emotions constrict my chest, and my vision blurs. The one truly romantic gesture, was when Rick made Corty. That old fool has no understanding of how to express love or affection. He doesn't want to learn, because he thinks of it as weakness. But he had enough understanding of his own shortcomings to compensate them with an invention. Rick isn't innocent, nor will he ever be a good partner. His abusive behaviour will forever continue. He fundamentally is incapable of consistently considerate behaviour. But I will always have Corty, the only person who can relate to my relationship with Rick. 

I focus back on Cortys sleep slack expression, and see the Rick in him. He must be infatuated with me because Rick couldn't resist programming him that way. I love him as an extension of Rick. We both humans want to bang this hot semi-computer because we project an imaginary version of each other on to him. 

None of this is healthy behaviour, but if I can choose the crazy option, I’ll never leave Cortys side. I want to keep him even sexually. Perhaps my fondness for him will slowly overpower my obsession with Rick.  
I lean down and ghost my lips on his. His face radiates heat. A sly breath is moving between the small opening of his mouth. I brush our lips together gently. It sends shivers down my back. He doesn't react. I smile and softly kiss his lower lip. He sighs and smiles, but soon face going slack once more. I want to see that instinctual smile every day, on both our faces.


	28. Hollow

While Corty bathes, I’m emotionally distancing myself from Rick on the bed. A cup of hot tea is steaming in my lap, and I’m  wrapped in blankets. I feel vulnerable, and it seems like the right thing to do, when I feel like Rick might never return. It's slowly becoming somewhat of a constant thing on my mind. I keep a strong front for Corty, but I fear he feels the same. It's becoming too much to bear, so it should just be easier if I had emotional closure. Thinking he's dead is closure. 

 

The familiar sound and colour of a portal fills the room. I run straight for him and pull him against me. He smells like alcohol and adventure. I hear the bathroom door open, and the pat-pat-pat of wet feet. We group hug like Teletubbies, accept one of us is a party pooper and doesn't understand human emotions. Rick doesn't even raise his hands from his sides or show much emotion. It hurts.

 

He checks the food rations, and collapses on the bed. We get it. I take a bath.

 

The tub looks like it hosted a murder scene, but I bleached the fuck out of every inch of it with a nailbrush. I guess all the years of hooker slaughter can't be washed off. Rick is like the stains. I can't wash him off if I wanted to. How easy it would be to just drink the toxic cleanser and not feel more pesky emotions? Too easy I guess.

 

I end my bathtub musings, wash my hair, and walk out with a towel. Rick is lying on his back in the middle of the bed. Corty is sitting to the left of him. They’re having a soft toned conversation. I sit to the right of him. He seems content enough, with his body all sprawled out. He turns to me, and his gaze is soft while he speaks:” I’m going in with a small army in four days. I hired a crew who I did this one heist with.” I missed you too Rick:”Mm-hmm.” He touches my cheek:” are you not exited?” I can't shake my head, it feels impossible. I can't bear to sour his for once good mood. I nod and muster a casual smile: “ Y-Yeah, I guess I’m just getting numb to these big things. Mus- maybe I’ve just seen so much you know?”

“Do you like our adventures?” He asks. From him, this feels like a reward. I swallow. A long flash of memories rushes through, and I cringe. He has neglected, traumatized, injured, abandoned and abused. To be a cartoon Viking, all he needs is to also murder and pillage. “Rick… there is nothing I enjoy more. Hundred years, right?” lying is too easy.

Rick lights up:”Yeah, Morty. Fuck yeah.” I feel cold within, but his appreciative eyes make the surface heat up. He reaches up and gently runs his thumb across the plane of my forehead. It's so tender I want to cry and apologize. I don't even know what I’m sorry about. Maybe I finally don't feel worthy, after all the times he has told me so straight to my face. Still my surface is so warm I’m afraid I’ll get hives. He places his hand at the nape of my neck. Goosebumps. I search his reciprocating eyes. His lids get heavier. My blood rushes to my face, even if at first I think he's just falling asleep, but my instincts prove correct, as he pulls me down for a kiss. 

 

I want to merge with his body- just jump in his hide, and become one being. His lips are warm and hungry. His heart thumps against my palm as I lean on his chest. For once he doesn't seem like a cyborg machine more than a man. He feels alive- he feels emotional. 

 

He pulls my entire being to mingle with his, and limbs tangle. His hands slide up and down my body, while he moves to manoeuvre himself on top. I become very aware of Cortys presence. He smirks, and hides his boner with his hands like a school boy. We’re a pervert.

I don't care. All I want is more of this once a blue moon, and I’ll gladly be miserable the rest of the time.

 

As he finds a rhythm, clothes start falling on the floor. All reason is gone from my head, and all I am is a mess. He nibbles on my freshly exposed flesh. The corner of his front teeth assault my nerves at my pec. His mouth is too smart with my body, for talking. Consent is thus assumed by him at the point where he ruthlessly thrusts into me. I’m riding a wave of every possible emotion, and pointlessly attempting to stave off climax just a few minutes later, when he without any warning comes undone. He digs his nails in my flesh and grinds out all the after waves. 

 

I dismount him and go in the bathroom. My reflection is like a smack to my face. A hollow forms at the pit of my stomach. I feel detached as I work myself off, and clean up. As I’m washing my face I hear a portal. He must be going out to restock.

 

He never returns. The hollow consumes me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated!:)


	29. Going home

When food ended, we called anyone we thought could help. A friend of a friend invited us to live in his basement. He was in Rick's debt and felt it might be the last chance to pay it back. Rick had seemingly vanished. So our host presumed him dead. After a week of listening to his gloom, it stuck. I’m afraid I’ll never even know. This ol’ rollercoaster. 

The basement is very cluttered, but we made the Inflatable mattress our kingdom. We're still just as trapped here as the hotel, and the floor is just as filthy. Here our TV screen is also smaller. It's some junk travel size one, that skips greens all together.  
Corty is going through our contacts, wracking his brain to think of anyone we haven't called. He's lying on the bed, and I’m giving him a shoulder massage.

His phone makes us flinch as it vibrates furiously. It's an unknown number. “Answer,” I tell him. He presses the green telephone icon, and puts it on speaker.  
“Corty speaking.”  
“Oh good! It's Squatchy here. Um. I have some news…”  
“Go on.”  
“You can return home boys, but uhm... Rick didn't make it.”  
Corty begins sobbing and asking questions. I tune them out. 

It feels awfully windy in my head today. The promenade of the park is empty. I stand alone in the fog. My socks are wet. Pigeons in the barren trees have tucked their heads under their wings. I listen to the wind, as it first rustles in the branches, then passes through me. I stop existing and become the travelling air.  
As I open my eyes, the calm remains, and I have the strength to tend to Corty. He wails himself silly, and sobs out fond memories in between breakdowns. I listen and attempt to twist the situation to its limits to make it all sound better. His heart is broken, mine stopped existing. Rick is dead. We’re going home.


	30. The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read this small adventure. I think it's time to let Morty have his closing monologue.

Beth has been silent for weeks. I wonder how much of her income is out in wine these days?.. When we came home, she broke down with Corty, and I pretended along. Nothing has felt like anything. I just drift along with my companion,( the emotionally functional one of us) ironically enough. Should have asked Rick to replace my brain with a chip. I can't muster a single tear. I want release from this fecal heap of emotions. 

 

Eating breakfast with a mourning family should be like a sack of wet sand on my shoulders. I’ve seen it on the eyes of every survivor.

The top of my head is still in the misty park like an uncomfortable hat, but my body is getting dragged down to reality by the ankles. I can only see thing from behind the mist. I attempt to wriggle free because this is not how normal people behave. I just want to be a regular person for once!  I can't feel anything but mild anger towards the numbness.

 

Beth hung a black old linty sock on the garage leading doors handle. No one has moved it. It's getting dusty. 

 

Me and Corty choose to drink some afternoon tea. Beth heard from someone tea is supposed to help with greaving, and tried to sell her some brand stuff. She took away from that conversation just the 'tea good’ part. Whatever makes her happy. We sit silently on our bed, and let the warmth soothe us like a belly rub. Our Rick shrine is still there. It has become a true altar. It's as if we knew in advance.I have been having trouble sleeping lately. Corty goes out like a machine, and has restless shut eye for six hours on average. His mood must be pretty consistent. So no improvement in his loss. I have to keep up with his grief, to know what emotion to reenact, and how to keep him intact at that moment. Cortys grief has progressed to a stage I call the  _ sad old hag,  _ where he tends to walk around with a blanket, and isn't big on looking cleanly. Right now his hair is unwashed, and his hairline has gained zits, even tho he has showered by my demand yesterday. I want to mock him, but it would just be an insult to myself. I am the emotionless broken robot. He acts more like a human.

 

A soft hand touches my shoulder. Corty smiles at me:” I’m so glad I have you with me through this.” I should be saying that. I kiss his forehead and smile back:” Me too.”

 

It’ll never be the same. I loved the man who made me Corty and for what he represented.This clone was a heartwarming gesture from a man, so emotionally handicapped, it was the best solution he could come up with. Corty was always the substitute for the intellectual part of Rick and my relationship. Without Corty, there would be no me and Rick. Corty will always just be a consolation prize. 

 

I wallow in my own insignificance, and existential doom, for a while. It feels right. Like punishing myself with misury. I feel guilty for his death. His attachment to me drove him down that last path. If I had only… I don't know. I must be going insane.

 

Corty yearns for attention, and keeps trying to tickle me. I hate this. I could never give Corty what he deserves. We need a Rick between us.

I say I’m going to the toilet, and leave him behind. I jog down to the door of the garage. That disgusting sock fly's out the window and can burn in hell. I need to see Rick again. 

 

The garage smells the same. All the chemical vapors, cleaning agents, burnt experiments, and all possible forms of synthetic oil smells find their way to my nostrils. It smells just like it's supposed to, if just a little duller. It's as if Rick is just on a long mission, and will soon burst through. I lock the door and sit on the floor. 

 

He’s never coming back. All these experiments will be left unfinished. All his dreams and aspirations are gone. He can no longer hear my words. The thought makes sense to me on a logical level, but my emotions can't comprehend it.

 

“Rick,” I whisper. It instantly makes me feel more comfortable. He was my best friend after all. “It's been weird,” I admit. “Mom is going forwards but questioning her beliefs. When you were here, you gave her thoughts validation… I think I miss you too. Not all your bullshit, but some of it. Like the fact that with you my life had meaning and purpose. Adrenaline, anger and disappointment. Now there's just life. It's different.” Sadness creeps up my spine. Finally some proper emotions. I wipe my nose. “I don't just miss you because you were the Rick to my Morty. I just liked  _ you _ . Your cynicism gave a healthy balance, and your stupid ways were a good sign you could have flaws. Leveled the playing ground.”

Wish I could sob myself silly, but that's not me. I grab the shelf and pull myself up. I pick up a box and press the button . “I’m Mr Meeseeks look at me!” The blue idiot has jazz hands for days.”I want you to take all this junk and place it in the hide out under the house. Please make sure everything is safely stored.” “Caaaan do!”

 

I go to the bathroom, wash my face, have a moment of silence, and then sigh. Something feels completed. The previous chapter of my life is over. Now it's up to me to create my own happiness. It's time grow up and accept my circumstances. I want to go to uni. I want Corty with me. We're going to share a dorm, and push one another to a well paying life. We'll live comfortably, make friends, and have a good life. In a year I’ll look back at this, and be glad he's gone. I’ll move forward. I’ll be ok.

  
  
  
  



End file.
